


It's Your Loss If You Want To Love Me

by us_as_astronauts



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (no surprises there), AU, Adrian Harris is an asshole, Eventual Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, F/M, I'll had more tags when I think of them, M/M, Not really..., Stiles is adopted, Stiles is poor, and isaac too, and pick pockets for a living, hale fire still happened, it'll be explained later in the fic, kinda follows the tv show plot a little at the begining, not very cheerful for the first few chapters, orphan!stiles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-03-17
Packaged: 2018-05-18 17:37:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5937070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/us_as_astronauts/pseuds/us_as_astronauts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Stiles has a chance encounter with Derek Hale, his life starts to change drastically and he's neither sure what's happening nor if he likes it. </p>
<p>Can Derek save Stiles from the life he's stuck in? Can Isaac get out beofre it's too late? Will Stiles and Derek (and the writers of Teen Wolf) realise they're perfect for eachother?</p>
<p>I have no idea how to write a summary, but I've wanted to get this fic off my hard drive and somewhere else for ages, so here it is...enjoy?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is technically my first fanfiction I guess, (I'm just gonna forget about the terrible ones I posted to Fanfiction.Net when I was 12).
> 
> I'm not sure if I'll finish writing it, I'd say I have about half of it written already. I'll see if anyone has an interest.
> 
> Enjoy reading the fic I guess, creative critism much appreciated. 
> 
> (Un-beta'd)

Stiles rubbed his hands together generating friction on the palms of his hand hoping to warm up. It was a cold day, one of the coldest so far this season in Beacon Hills and he was starting to regret not bringing his big warm hoodie, leaving it back at the flat. He saw a headline on one of the newspapers in the kiosk he walked past, saying something about snow. Great, he thought. Just what he needed, a winter sleeping in the fucking snow. Bloody fantastic.

He reached the square next to the mini mall, which was filled with small cafes and restaurants. It was the perfect place for the kids from the high school to hang out, they always tended to be less careful in groups making Stiles’ job easier. 

Although it was relatively empty today, the weather forcing most people to stick inside. Stiles wouldn’t dare attempting to try inside one of the eating establishments around him, he had already been banned from one or two for getting caught in his earlier days. He liked to stick outside, it made for a much easier getaway. 

He pretended to check messages on his phone, leaning against a statue on his side of the square, casually looking up at intervals to find the perfect time. That’s when he saw him, a twenty something year old guy in a thick leather jacket. He was at the cash machine, he watched as the older man put some fresh bills into his wallet which then got put into the back pocket of his jeans. 

It was almost too perfect, too easy. But Stiles needed this, he hadn’t gotten anything in a few days and the bruise on his cheek still stung from bringing nothing back yesterday. He slipped his phone back into his own pocket and walked briskly towards the centre of the square.

By now the man was at the coffee stall, buying himself a cup of steaming hot liquid and by the time Stiles was about five metres away from him, he was just stepping away from the stand, and Stiles chose his moment to go in.

\---------------------------------------------

I wasn’t even that cold, but the thought of some warm coffee did sound appealing so Derek decided to treat himself. He was about to drink some when something bumped into him. The cold tended to heighten the powers and his arm flinched, causing the claws to extend piercing through the cardboard cup spilling the drink all over his arm.  
“Oh God, I’m so sorry.” Stiles started apologizing, stepping around Derek as he steadied the drink so it wouldn’t spill any more. Derek shot him a short glare.   
He gave him a disbelieving grunt in response, but then they caught glances at each other. 

This kid was young probably only sixteen or seventeen, his pale skin highly defined the bruised skin and the cut on his lip. But his eyes… Derek almost got lost for a moment, clearing his head of the strange train of thoughts running through. 

Before he knew it, the kid was walking away, looking over his shoulder back at Derek oddly. Derek wasn’t really sure what had just happened, but he didn’t like it. He wasn’t in control of that situation and if there was anything he need it was control.

He wiped his sleeve over the other arm hoping the coffee wouldn’t ruin his jacket. Throwing what was left of the coffee cup into a trashcan nearby he sighed, coffee would just have kept him awake all night anyway. As a thought ran through his mind, his hand flew straight to his pocket. His wallet. It was gone.

That kid must have taken it, Derek was annoyed he fell for the old bump and grab, literally the oldest trick in the book. How could he have been so stupid? He cursed under his breath. It’s not like he would really go bankrupt without the wallet, the kid didn’t know his pin for his credit cards. But he did have that photo in there, the last one he had of the whole family. Derek wasn’t a very sentimental person, but that picture was his exception. 

The kid’s smell sting lingered a bit in the air, it was cold but there was no breeze so finding him would be no problem. 

 

\---------------------------------------------

Stiles went through the wallet when he got back to his little hide-away alley. This was the place he always went afterwards to count the loot, it was a lot safer and he wouldn’t get caught here. He opened up the black leather wallet, finding it amusing how it matched the guys jacket, curious as to whether it was on purpose or it had just happened. 

He was thrilled when he pulled out his hand and there was two hundred and fifty dollars resting in his palm. He stuffed the fifty dollar bill in his back pocket for himself and left the rest back into the wallet. He went through the cards, pretty basic assortment going on really; a visa, a debit, and a coffee rewards card that he probably just got a few minutes ago seeing as there was only one stamp on it so far.

Then Stiles stumbled upon something he didn’t think he’d find, in one of the pockets was a folded piece of white paper, unfolding it revealed the picture on the inside. It was a big group of people, a family by the looks of it Stiles guessed because some features were easily recognisable with multiple people. Stiles liked the photo, it probably served as a nice memory to the guy he just robbed, and he felt sad that he could never carry around a picture of his family in his wallet. 

He didn’t know his family, the closest thing he had was Adrian, but he would never be a fatherly figure to him. Stiles thought he could kind of remember his dad, he had this one foggy memory of him, but he couldn’t remember of it even was his dad or not. 

Guilt started creeping up on him, overwhelming his thoughts so he never noticed the man standing at the opening of the alleyway staring at him. Well he didn’t notice until there was a hand gripped around his throat slamming him into the wall.

Stiles kept still, he knew not to fight too much until you knew exactly what was happening; fighting back had always made it worse. He couldn’t help but tense up though. 

He almost forgot to breathe when he saw who it was: the guy he had just robbed. Swallowing nothing, his breathe came back fast as panic flooded his senses. This guy looked buff, strong and he could definitely tell because of the sheer amount of force being held against him at the moment. Stiles was 117 pounds of pale skin and fragile bones whose only defence was sarcasm, he was no match to this dude whatsoever. His arms seemed to be made up of purely muscles, and he probably only ever left the gym to beat up annoying little scumbags like Stiles. He knew he shouldn’t have robbed him, he just desperately needed the money. He had never wanted to be a thief, never asked for any of this. And now he was probably gonna die because he pissed off the wrong dude. 

They had been silent for what had probably been a few seconds but felt like forever when you had a hand so close to snapping your neck in half. The dude wasn’t threatening him yet, so Stiles decided to just start it and hopefully finish it faster.

“Ok ok, look dude I-I’m really sorry…I j-just really uh needed… Just take it back. Ok? No need to kill me or do anything you could possibly regret in the morning.” 

Stile was shoving the wallet and picture at the man, somewhat surprised that he had not dropped when he was initially attacked. The dude let go and Stiles slumped down against the wall, trying to control his breathing. The dude shoved the picture into his jacket pocket before checking the contents of the wallet still looking pretty pissed. 

His glare went straight back up to Stiles when he was done. 

“Ok! Jeez, here’s the rest. I swear that’s all I took.” Stiles took the fifty out of his pocket and handed it to the man, before holding his hands up in defence unsure whether the dude wanted retribution or something for getting his wallet stolen. 

He took the fifty holing it in his hand for a moment, before taking the rest of money out with it too. He pressed his hand against the boy’s chest still glaring at him.

“Keep it. I just needed this.” He held up the wallet, showing him.

Surprised by his generosity, Stiles nodded after a few moments, wanting to make sure this wasn’t some joke. But it wasn’t, the man was being sincere, Stiles was so relieved.

“T-thanks, I guess.” He looked down at the money in his hand, now his. Licking his lips awkwardly before watching as the man turned and left him alone. 

He was unsure about how he even caught him, but he was even more so relieved to not get arrested or simply just beaten up. That man had really done him a solid, though he’d have to remember to not steal from anyone who looked too buff and handsome again. Wait what had he just…Stop it Stiles. 

He shook his head before turning to leave the alley himself and ironically or not, bought himself a coffee as a treat with his new-found but probably soon to be short-lived money.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm so happy people are liking the story so far! I forgot how fun it was to upload work. I've been super busy recently, but still want to continue with it, so bare with me. Thanks so much for the kudos and comments :)
> 
> \-------------
> 
> Chapter 2: In which Isaac is drunk and we meet Jackson

Seeing as Stiles had actually brought money back to the flat, (and didn’t say anything about the fifty still hidden in his pocket), he had been given money to buy food that day which wasn’t quite a regular occurrence. Instead of taking random things out of the fridge to see if they were still in date, he could actually go out and buy something warm to eat. He couldn’t leave there fast enough when he received the money, wanting to get out with the twenty dollar bill before Adrian changed his mind, which he had been known for doing. 

It was a relatively uneventful morning, as he walked along the streets somewhat content with himself, it was a nice change to his usual ways of spending time.

His phone buzzed unexpectedly, which made him tense up. It was rarely ever a good reason why someone would call him. It was usually Adrian yelling at him to get back for the beating of a lifetime, or someone was in trouble. Thinking back he’s sure only about three or four people know his phone number, Adrian, Isaac and Danny. 

By this stage the phone was still ringing and he had stepped to the side of the pathway to let other people walk by. He took it out of his pocket, seeing Isaac’s caller ID on his screen, hoping to God he was ok, he pressed the button on his phone to answer it.

“Hey Stiles!” A voice that he instantly recognized as Isaac’s called out.

“Hey what’s up? What happened?” Stiles countered, the last time Isaac called him he had woken up in some back alley not sure where he was or how he got there. He had to bring him to the hospital that day. 

“What? Pfft, nothings wrong. I just wanted to see how my bestest buddy is!” Stiles could hear it in his voice, his stoned voice.

“Dude you’re high.”

“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. Who knows?” The question was rhetorical, Stiles knew the answer anyway.

He sighed, “Where are you?”

“That um place with the sticks and those tiny little colourful balls. We used to come here when we were kids, remember?” He stopped talking, Stiles somewhat presumed he had left down some memory lane. 

“The pool place?” 

“Ha yeah, that’s the one.”

“Ok, I’ll be right over, don’t move a muscle.”

“Yeah yeah, come quick! Elvis is here!” He exclaimed excitedly.

Stiles grumbled something incoherent and hung up. Changing his direction he started walking towards the old pool house. 

He and Isaac had spent a bit of time their as kids, hustling pool when they thought they were good at it, but were actually terrible. No one had really explained the rules to them before and many cue balls had been sent down into the nets intending to be a point for them. 

Stiles guessed the other people there just felt kinda sorry for them because sometimes they actually got money. It was pity money but it paid for food none the less. When they got older they didn’t get any better, and the other players didn’t find them cute enough anymore to pretend they won. 

So Stiles went down the pick pocketing route while Isaac went down the drug dealing route. Stiles hated the way Isaac was endangering himself so much in order to get money. Sure neither of the things they were doing were legal, but if Stiles got arrested (again) it would just be charges of petty theft seeing as most people either didn’t bother reporting him or didn’t notice. Whereas if Isaac got caught distributing drugs to kids, he could get life in prison, and there is no way he could let that happen. Hours were spent of him attempting to convince Isaac not to do it, to quit while he still had the chance and wasn’t too deep into it. But by now, it was probably too late. 

He got to the old building that was probably breaking a shit-ton of health and safety rules, but anyone who actually came here didn’t really care and neither did Stiles. As he stepped in and the door closed behind him, the usual occurrence of everyone turning and staring at whoever walked in occurred. Stiles was never quite so sure about why they did it, even though he had also done it on occasion. He guessed it was to potentially scare away anyone who didn’t really belong here, and he had seen it work that unsuspecting people had walked in and gotten kinda creeped out by the strange mix of drugged up teenagers and large burly biker men who seemed to be the main customers of the place.

The dark lighting and cigarette smoke that clogged air was something Stiles had grown used to in his time spent in here. After the majority of people recognized one of the regular(ish) customer they went back to their drinking and pool playing. 

Jesus. Stiles thought, it was like one pm last time Stiles checked the time and people were already finishing pint glasses of alcohol. The clock on the wall was broken, making it permanently six o five in the bar, but checking the time on his phone Stiles saw that the actual time was only forty five minutes past one. 

He walked around until he saw the familiar head, well back of head. Isaac had a fairly distinct back of head Stiles thought, making him easy to spot out. 

Isaac was sitting alone at the bar, drink in hand. Stiles didn’t see any obvious signs of drugs on him, which he guessed was a good sign, but he couldn’t be sure. He approached, and sat down on the stool next to Isaac’s. 

Resting his head in his hands on the bar, regretting it slightly as he felt the sticky surface rubbing harshly against his skin. He felt an arm come around his back.

“Heyyyy buddy.” At least someone was happy, Stiles turned around to face Isaac who looked almost ecstatic. Well at least he was a happy drunk rather than an angry drunk.

“Where is it then?” Stiles asked, not bothered to reply in such an ecstatic tone as his friend. 

“Where’s what?” He grinned his response, looking like such an idiot Stiles thought. He sighed.

“Where are the drugs? Or have you taken them all already?”

“Don’t be silly, they’re lonnggg gone. I already sold them.”

“And did you happen to take any, or try some?” Stiles hinted very obviously, unsure about how receptive Isaac would be in this state.

Isaac giggled, “Maybe a little bit.” He smiled into his glass as he took another gulp.

“What, and now you’re drinking?” Stiles grabbed the glass, taking a sniff and a quick sip of the dark coloured liquid. Root beer. It simultaneously made him feel better and worse that the bartender knew them well enough by now. To know when Isaac was high and that he would probably believe that anything was beer when handed to him. 

His shoulders relaxed slightly, as he put the glass back down and Isaac took a greedy gulp of the pretend alcohol. 

“Did you see Elvis?” Isaac poked Stiles in the side, to which Stiles automatically flicked his hand away. It had become a natural reaction that he could never get rid of.

“No” He eyed Isaac suspiciously, wondering if he was seeing things. “Where is the king?” He had decided to humour the boy.

Isaac turned and pointed over to a rather large man sitting in a booth by himself. He had a quiff that could definitely be classified as the Presley style hair and he had what seemed to be a triple layer hamburger in his hands. He wondered how the hell he even managed to hold that monstrosity. The man took a huge bite out of the meat filled sandwich, then Stiles watched as he seemed to almost fall asleep(?) mid way through chewing. The shake his head, wake up again and continue to eat the monstrosity of a meal. 

Charming. He thought. A tad bit disgusting yet relieving that his friend wasn’t exactly seeing things, not that the things he was seeing were too pretty to look at. Sometimes Stiles could almost understand why Isaac took drugs, almost. 

Stiles shook his head, not really sure of what to do when the bartender came over.

“Hello Stiles.” 

“Hey Gary.” They of course knew each other by name, and a little by back story. Gary had worked in the bar for as long as Stiles and Isaac had been coming, he remembered once Gary telling him that he was once bus driver but retired after an accident, giving reason to the small scars visible on his face and arms that one would barely notice in the poor lighting. But Stiles noticed, he noticed a lot of things.

Gary knew about Stiles and Isaac, about their situations and lack of parents. At the beginning he would sometimes offer them a place to stay when Adrian was being a little more than un-hospitable at home. But up to recent years Stiles had started refusing to come, not wanting to put the man through more than he had to. The bar had been like a sort of refuge for the boys for many years, and a sort of knowing friendship had been formed over the years. 

Stiles looked up at the man who looked like any other stereotypical bartender at that moment, he stood wiping a glass with an old dirty rag, dressed in a dark shirt and the white apron thing that bartenders usually with the pocket to hold bottle openers or receipts or whatever they wanted to through in there, There could be a gun in there for all Stiles knew, which in honesty wouldn’t surprise him in these parts. 

But Stiles was over thinking things again, he needed to learn how to relax properly but now wasn’t really the time. 

“So how long has he been here?” Indicating back to Isaac who seemed to be mumbling something about elephants. 

“Stumbled in about half an hour ago, giggling and falling all over the place.” He huffed slightly. “Gave him something to drink to keep him from running around the place.”

Stiles appreciated everything this dude had done for the two of them, especially in the past year with Isaac. He nodded to the man who put the glass down with the rest on the shelf underneath the counter top.

“Look, do ya wanna help me bring him out back?” 

He was about to refuse the offer when he looked back at his still high friend and his current state. He seemed to have calmed down, hopefully a sign of the drugs wearing off. 

Sighing, he realised he couldn’t really refuse.

“Yeah, thanks.”

Gary came out and around the bar, and with Stiles’ help they brought Isaac around to the back of the bar where Gary had a makeshift bedroom. Nothing much, a mattress in the corner, a lamp on the floor next to it and a book shelf against the other wall full of books Stiles had never even looked at. But it was enough, somewhere safe to sleep.

They watched as Isaac curled up on the makeshift bed, getting comfortable and thankfully not refusing sleep as he closed his eyes.

“I’ll come back later to check on him.” Stiles confirmed his thoughts to Gary as they stood at the entrance to Isaac’s room.

“Don’t worry yourself, he’ll be fine here.” Sometimes Stiles forgot how much he loved this man, for really making his life that much easier.

“Alright, I’ll see ya.” Gary nodded, and patted Stiles on the back as he left.

Stepping outside, it took a moment for Stiles’ eyes to adjust to the brightness out here compared to inside the bar. 

A noise came from his stomach, reminding him that he hadn’t actually eaten today, but he could finally go and enjoy a hot meal that he had everything sorted. Isaac was in good hands, and he actually had a significant amount of money to support himself for a while without having to steal. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Johnny’s Dinner Diner; it brought back a lot of memories, well particularly just one. The first time he ever remembered coming here was the first day he and Isaac had met Adrian, they would have been five maybe? He couldn’t remember that well, but he remembered the food being really good and a time when life didn’t seem so horrible all the time. Then again he was young then, so naïve. He had learned so many things since then, seen a lot of things he didn’t want to and had done a considerable amount of things he didn’t want to either. 

But for now, he tried to forget about all that as he stepped into the warm establishment and walked over to the counter to order his food. He took a seat down at one of the high rise tables with bar stools, it was easier to eat by yourself at these sort of tables than in booths, it looked a little less odd.

He immediately and gladly distracted himself with his food, a beef hamburger, a double order of curly fries (his favourite) and a large soda. As he stuffed his face with the fat saturated food and revelled in the glory. Warm good tasting food was amazing, so different to what he had come accustomed to over the past while. 

 

After a few minutes (food never lasted long with Stiles around) he had finished and was wiping the grease from his hands off on a napkin before throwing it into the bin. He jumped off the stool and stretched his arms a little, feeling on top of the world. Seriously no one seemed to appreciate food the way that Stiles did. He headed out the door of the eating establishment, heading back outside to the cold. He was glad he remembered his warm hoodie today. 

He had owned the big red hoodie for years, not entirely sure of how it came to become his, but he wasn’t complaining. When he was younger it barely fit him, the sleeves would go much further than his little arms and the hood would completely cover his face, but now it fit almost perfectly, he had grown into it as he had hoped.

“Hey Stiles!” He heard someone calling his name as he walked outside, he turned around looking for whoever had called out to him by instinct. 

He regretted it when he saw who it was walking out the door behind him. 

Jackson

He must have been in the bathroom and had run over to catch Stiles before he left. The only reason Jackson ever even acknowledged his existence was to insult or humiliate or whatever Jackson felt like he wanted to do. Jackson was the lacrosse team captain at the private school up the road from Stiles’ public school. He was handsome, strong, rich and a big pain in the ass, especially to Stiles.

“Where do you think you’re going Stiles?” He exaggerated his name, making it sound like a joke. Stiles never understood what he ever did to offend Jackson or why he was such an ass hole towards Stiles. But even his smirk alone was enough to get Stiles annoyed at him.

“What do you want Jackson?” He asked tiredly, not wanting to get into anything on such an (almost) perfect afternoon.

Jackson looked like he was about to say something, but stopped himself. His eyes fixated on Stiles’ cheek. Shit. He thought as he realised what he was looking at. The bruise was still there.

Stiles tried to turn around to walk away, but Jackson grabbed his arm tightly, keeping him where he was. 

“Who gave you that? And that?” He asked, raising an eyebrow as he eyed Stiles bruise and busted lip. Stiles only looked down, hoping Jackson would drop it and leave him alone.

“Maybe someone else finally realised how pathetic and worthless you are.” He spat at him. By this Stage Stiles was grinding his teeth, a mix of anger at Jackson and attempting to stop his smart mouth from saying anything that could make the situation worse.

“Answer me Harris.” He spoke again, each time he spoke he seemed to get more annoyed by Stiles. 

“Jackson!” A different voice called out distracting them both. The two boys looked over to the girl who had just spoken up. Stiles already knew who it was; Lydia.

Lydia was the asshole’s girlfriend and she also happened to be the girl that Stiles had had a crush on for years. She was beautiful and she knew it. Her strawberry blonde hair sat beautifully on top of her beautiful shoulders which also happened to be attached to the rest of her beautiful body. (This was basically how Stiles rambled on about her in his head practically every time he saw her).

Jackson sighed before letting go of Stiles’ arm, letting the poor boy go. 

“Fucking rich kids.” Stiles mumbled under his breath as he moved his shoulder joint, getting the blood back into the rest of his arm.

“What was that?” Jackson spun back around in a matter of seconds, pointing am accusing finger right in Stiles’ face.

Stiles paused for a moment trying so hard to not say anything, but he couldn’t.

“Oh I know you heard me, maybe I don’t go to some posh ass school but at least I don’t need my girlfriend to help me out.” He didn’t mean any harm on Lydia, the fact that this guy was an asshole wasn’t her fault, he just couldn’t stand Jackson. 

“Oh you’re really in for it now.” Jackson cracked his knuckles in a fist, “Punk.” He added while giving Stiles a quick shove. 

Stiles was ready to stand his ground, to hit him back, but then he heard something that stopped him and Jackson from doing anything. 

He didn’t even realise that there was a dude standing right next to him, but what surprised him more was the fact that he seemed to be, would growling be the word for it? He didn’t know, but it definitely did not seem human. 

He took a step back away from both the man beside him and Jackson, but then froze when he recognised the man. The leather jacket wearing dude from yesterday, the one that he robbed. 

Stiles’ heart was going a mile a minute, and for a moment it seemed like the man knew it. He glanced down at Stiles’ chest right where his heart was beating erratically but then looked away over to Jackson.

“It’s…it’s…you.” Jackson was stuttering and stumbling over his own words, Stiles began to wonder if he knew the man too. By the way he was staring at the man it definitely looked like he recognised him.

“What’s the problem here?” He asked, seeming to have calm down a bit, not making the strange growl like noises he did earlier, but he still seemed pissed. 

“Problem? S-sir? T-there’s no problem at all.” Jackson seemed scared shitless, which Stiles would actually enjoy watching if he wasn’t also terrified. 

“Right, well I think we should break this off before anything does happen.” Derek kept talking, Stiles glanced over to the table of private school students, all of which seemed to have shifted their attentions away from Stiles and Jackson and seemingly trying to make themselves invisible.

He looked back over to the two dudes standing next to him, Derek staring at Jackson weirdly. 

“Okay, okay yeah. I’ll um, I’ll see ya later Stiles.” Jackson nodded over to Stiles before returning to his friends. 

Was Jackson trying to pretend that they were friends in front of the man? Stiles wasn’t sure but didn’t reply anyway, just watched as he awkwardly walked away, leaving Stiles alone with the tall, rather good-looking- Shut up Stiles, shut up.

“Um thanks.” Stiles was staring down at the ground, not really sure what to do with himself. He wasn’t sure how to feel either, he knew it should probably feel uncomfortable and awkward, but it didn’t feel quite like that. He wasn’t sure how he felt.

They stood for a few moments in silence, until Stiles looked back up, wondering if he would say anything to him. He didn’t.

Instead the man just stood there staring at Stiles, but what had caught the younger boy off guard was his expression. Stiles had only ever seen this dude angry, at him, but now his features were soft, he looked caring, like he wanted to give Stiles a hug. It was somewhat pleasant, but under the context Stiles also found it strange and perhaps a little creepy. 

“I should” Stiles coughed, his throat had gone dry. “I should probably go, I’ll be late for that…for my thing.” What was happening? Stiles was always well capable at coming up with well formed excuses to get away from people, he wasn’t sure how many times his ‘grandmother’ had gone to hospital. But all of a sudden his mind just went blank.

He waited a few moments, possibly seeing if the stranger had any objections to him leaving, but he didn’t. He just stood and watched Stiles.

Stiles nodded his head awkwardly for no reason, before lifting his foot and swivelling around. He started walking away, out of the plaza and towards the main streets just past. He took a quick glance back, seeing that he was gone. No longer standing and watching Stiles walk away. 

He didn’t know if that made him happy or sad, or whatever other feeling had decided to slither into his soul. But he felt something, he knew that much.


End file.
